Page 86 of Sweet Nothings

Laurel scrambles to her feet. She meets the doctor in the middle of the hall, and I’m quick to be by her side. I place my hand on the small of her back as she holds her hands in front of her, nervously wringing her fingers. Her knuckles fade to white before turning red again.

“Is my sister okay?”

The doctor nods, and Laurel’s shoulders relax. She’s still wringing her fingers, but she’s not as tense.

“I’m Monroe’s oncologist, Dr. White,” he says, placing his hand to his chest. “I’ve been treating your sister ever since we discovered her cancer eight months ago.”

“Eight months?” Laurel gasps. She quickly snaps her head in my direction before looking back at the doctor. “Eight months?” she repeats.

“Yes.” Dr. White’s eyes dart between us. “Monroe has been diagnosed since the end of last year.”

Laurel slowly lifts her hand to cover her mouth. I wrap my hand around her waist, pulling her closer. “I’m sorry.” She blinks. “I didn’t know.”

“We’re all lucky you brought her in as fast as you did,” he explains. “I feared since Monroe was going through this alone that she might have someone there for her in a situation such as this one.”

Relief washes over me momentarily, thankful she wasn’t unconscious long enough to end up on life support like my mother was.

“But she hasn’t been alone,” Laurel explains. “Her husband Steven has been with her every day, taking care of her.”

Three lines crease the doctor’s forehead as he continues looking between me and Laurel. He appears just as confused as we are.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Harding, but your sister has never mentioned her husband, nor has he been to any of her appointments.”

“I don’t understand. Steven’s been going to all her chemo treatments.”

The doctor stares at us blankly, unsure what to say. “I’m sorry to tell you this, Mrs. Harding, but Monroe hasn’t had a treatment in well over a month. Her scans were showing an aggressive progression of cancer cells moving to other parts of her body.”

“But what about the surgery?” Laurel’s face pales as her jaw drops. “Can’t it be removed with surgery?”

“Unfortunately…” He shakes his head. “Surgery is no longer an option. The cells have multiplied in too many areas, and one of the tumors has latched itself onto a blood vessel making it inoperable. It would be impossible, at this point, to eliminate all the cancer cells. Monroe declined all chemotherapy or radiation treatments after we discussed her situation and the likelihood she would make it out the other side of chemo. The risk was worth more than the outcome. The cancer has weakened her immune system, which ultimately caused her to collapse the way she did.”

Laurel sobs again, this time turning into me. She places her head on my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her tightly.

“Again,” the doctor says, “I’m so sorry. You’re welcome to go in and see her. She’s asleep, but we have her on an IV drip, and she’s being closely monitored. We’ll have her moved to the oncology floor here in a few hours.”

The doctor disappears down the hall, stopping at the nurses’ station.

My arms are still wrapped around Laurel’s shaking body. I kiss the top of her head and soothe her as much as I can, but it isn’t until this moment do I realize I’m falling apart as well.

Holding Laurel is the only thing keeping me together. I’m thrust back into my nightmare, reliving the pain and grief I felt with my mother. Monroe isn’t my sister, but she is family. Laurel is my family.

“Do you want to go in and see her?” I ask Laurel.

She pulls away, wiping at her swollen eyes. She nods and looks up, her eyes searching mine. “Yeah, I, um…” She looks down at her hands. They’re tucked inside the long sleeves of my jacket. It’s swallowing her, but it doesn’t matter.

“Don’t worry about it,” I reassure her. “I’ll have Ray bring some of your clothes.”

Her round eyes soften. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” I kiss her on the lips. “I’ll let you two have some time. I’ll go see if I can track down a nurse to help me clean this up.” I hold my hand up, turning it over.

“Good, you should.” She lightly smiles, running her hand up the length of my arm. I start to walk away, but before my hand leaves hers, she tugs on my fingers. I look over my shoulder.

“Don’t go too far,” she says, a very weak, ghost of a smile tugging on her lips. “Please.”

“I won’t,” I promise her. I wait until she turns on her heel and stands in front of the door. She looks at me with her hand pressed against the door, not quite pushing on it.

Sadness. Fear. Pain. Guilt. Every emotion I can possibly think of is written across her face as she looks at me one last time before pushing through the door.

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